Arkham Justice
by The Keyrim
Summary: This world is insane. Flying people. Aliens protecting earth. People with wings. Bruce Wayne is alive. I have a thirteen year old counter-part. Batman is actually socializing with other heroes and has a space station. Well actually that last one I can believe, though I digress. I should've never gone into that S.T.A.R. labs. Arkham-verse!Nightwing in Young Justice AU
1. Down The Rabbit Hole

**(Crawls out from under desk)**

 **Welcome Readers young and old to my smelting pot of a fanfiction. If you're one of my older readers you'll be glad to know that I am trying to get back into the hot seat with writing by rewriting these older chapters.**

 **Sorry I've been gone for over almost a year, but when I'm done updating these chapters I'll be coming in with a new chapter hopefully within October.**

 **Keep in mind, Nightwing is wearing his** _ **Arkham City (the best suit)**_ **costume and has all the gadgets he had in that game as well. Spoilers for Arkham Knight ahead as well Young Justice as it will follow the T.V. show eventually.**

* * *

Nightwing opened his eyes to see pavement.

"Why is the world spinning?" where the first words to spill out of his mouth as consciousness slowly crept back into place. Nightwing attempted at getting to his feet, only to fail immediately, falling back, his sense of balance currently not in working order.

' _Alright Nightwing, think,'_ repeating the mantra a couple of time to himself in his head as he propped his back against a concrete wall behind him. _'You're on the floor, your head is ringing and partially blind. Time to take inventory.'_

He flexed his fingers.

' _Five Digits per finger, Check.'_

He shifted his back against the wall feeling for his trusty escrima sticks holstered on his back.

' _Both present and accounted for.'_

Finally he reached to touch his face.

' _And my mask is still in place. Good. Now where am I?'_ Blinking a few times, he took in his surroundings and saw he was in a back alley ...somewhere.

' _So that's what that smell was…'_

As much as he loved just sitting around doing nothing he needed to find a safer place than an alley to actually collect his thoughts. With a groan, he stood up and retrieved his grapnel launcher from one of the hidden pouches of his suit, aimed for the rooftop ledge above him and ascended to the air.

He noticed something off as the air rushed through his hair. It was warm. Way to warm for it to be late December in _Gotham_ of all places. The vigilante shook his head, deciding he could focus on that later.

Finally above ground level, he paced back and forth around the roof racking his brain for anything about what could've happened that landed him unconscious in an alley.

"Alright former boy wonder, retrace your steps," the acrobat murmured to himself.

' _I was responding to a silent alarm that went off at… oh.'_

* * *

After that whole fiasco with Crane and the Arkham Knight, Batman disappeared (not _died_ like most people had thought. There was no way the old man didn't plan that explosion. It _had_ to of been some kind of protocol in case his secret identity got blown.), Nightwing took it upon himself to patrol Gotham, his home city, in Bruce's sted. After around 2 months of keeping the inevitable crime wave down (stopping Cobblepot from escaping from the GCPD lock-up and taking up Cash on his offer as well), a silent alarm had been tripped at a S.T.A.R. Labs facility that had sprung up in The Cauldron as part of the restoration effect of the occupation. When he arrived of the scene, it was some of the Militia Remnants (soldiers from Scarecrow's army that escaped the GCPD lockup) that were attempting a heist of the lab, lifting any technology that was being worked on.

After entering the lab and working his way through the thugs easily enough, be it through strait-up stealth or whack-a-mole with their heads, he interrogated the lucky loser by threatening (bluffing) to shove his face into the nearest circuit breaker until he would be blowing out through both ends.

He sung like a canary.

The idiot spilled that his commanding officer had moved on into the _Experimental Wing_ of the laboratory with a hostage to boot.

Nightwing promptly thanked the man with one of his trademark smirks, burning that final image into his mind before smashing his head into the wall with a satisfying crack.

He knew the leader was expecting him after losing contact with the rest of his crew. So before entering the room, Nightwing activated his masks _detective vision_ to see what was waiting for him. Sure enough, it was the head honcho himself, holding a captive scientist at gunpoint shouting at her to work on something on the console and the rather large machine next to it.

With ten minions with an assortment of knives, shields, and riot batons between them.

Had simply shrugged to himself as he walked into the room.

Nightwing walked in front of the crowd, slipped into his stance as he'd done dozens of times before and twirled one of escrima sticks and he zoned in and out of the head thug's is generic " _you must be some kinda idiot to waltz in here and get ready to die blah-blah-blah"_ speech before expertly taking down the thugs with his "family's" special brand of brutality, and without so much as a scratch.

Some snapped bones and potential lawsuits later, it was just the vigilante standing. The head bad guy had ripped the scientist from the console, held her in front of him by the neck with a pistol to her head, threatening to shoot if the vigilante didn't leave.

Obviously the thug didn't know how this song and dance went.

Really all Nightwing had to do was throw an escrima stick to the side ricocheting it off the wall and into the fool's head, knocking him out instantly.

As crazy as it was to say, it was when all the militia was down for the count, was when the shit hit the fan.

He was about to walk over to the fallen scientist when she screamed at him to get off the platform.

Embarrassed to say, He was a tad to slow on the uptake, only reacting fast enough to look down at the previously not-glowing-platform he was standing one before he had shield his eyes to keep from the light that enveloped him to blind him.

* * *

' _And then I woke up in a dirty back alley.'_

Nightwing, coming out of the haze of the returning memories, concluded that he'd just walked into an experiment of some kind.

"Alright," he said to himself, feeling that should really address the metaphorical elephant in the room, "you know how you got here, somewhat. Now, where is _here_?"

Obviously he was in a city, but which city evaded him. It _couldn't_ of been Gotham. That was for sure. The skyline was totally different. The streets seemed generally cleaner. And then there was the fact that Gotham was surrounded by a body of water.

(It could've been a few different cities. Keystone for one, Star City for another. He entertained the thought he could be in Metropolis and immediately scoffed)

He decided use the _holo-wrist_ gauntlet (similar to the ones installed on Bruce's last two batsuits had) that the Lucius had given him to connect to the internet and find his GPS position.

What he saw boggled his mind.

Apparently he was in Gotham. And yet it wasn't Gotham.

He took to the media. Nothing on Scarecrow or the occupation of Gotham.

Nothing on Bruce Wayne unmasked as Batman. Or his apparent death.

Instead it was all focused on an _alive_ Batman and _a kid Robin_ narrowly saving the hospital from a bomb placed by an _alive Joker_.

Feeling like he had an idea where this ship was headed (as ridiculous as the notion was) he. Glanced at the date.

It was _2010._

Not _2015._

(A headline discussing something about a _Justice League_ momentarily caught Richard's eye. Deeming it unimportant, he disregards it and moves on.)

The previous sinking feeling that had began forming in Nightwing's gut became a chilling black hole in his stomach.

For the first time a long time, Richard Grayson was at a loss. He was hyperventilating. No amount of training or previous experience could have gotten him ready for this. The most outlandish feat he'd ever done was punch a Crocodile man in the face, but _this?_ This took the cake. And ate it too.

"Ok, you need to calm _down_ ," he said to himself. His free hand massaged his temple as he calmed his nerves. "Remember what Batman taught you, 'take a breath, be aware of your environment, and solve one problem at a time.'"

He need a plan of action ASAP. He was no good to himself or Gotham if he was a panicking mess. He breathed in through his nose then out through his mouth. His heart slowing, he could think rationally about his situation and think up a course of action.

' _Alright, if you done having a breakdown,'_ a voice in his head that sounded painfully like Bruce told him, ' _now would be a good time to get off this roof and find some place to discreetly get information about..._ wherever _you are.'_

Taking a deep breath and settling on this course of action, the blue knight downloaded a basic map of the city and laid down a waypoint for the only place that free information is available _._

The library.

* * *

Nightwing was so glad that the universe decided to throw him a bone for all of the trouble it put him through lately as there wasn't a soul inside or around the building. When he landed on the roof, he quickly activated his holo-wrist and connected it to the library's database.

' _Alright, let's see what's relevant in the world today,'_ he thought to himself as he began to dig into the piles of data downloaded onto his holo-wrist.

First on his search was Bruce Wayne. Currently holding down the bubbly playboy persona as well as he did in his home universe. And very much still in the public eye.

(In the articles relating to Bruce Wayne there was one story titled " _WayneTech's ties to the League_ ". While it barely registered to him, his trained mind subconsciously filled away that this was the second mentioning of "The League".)

His next search was for himself now. He typed in _Richard Grayson_ and punched in search.

He really didn't what he should've expected in researching himself. Apparently this Gotham's Richard was 13. That means that he was still Robin in this... universe.

It was… odd to think about it like that.

But his mind was on his former alter-ego, so he typed it in.

 _Batman & Robin._

So it was apparent that this Batman has only been active for roughly the same amount of time he'd been Nightwing. Interesting. He was also a founding member of the Justice League.

Ok now if the acrobat wasn't curious before, he was now.

Giving in to the building interest he typed it in.

 _Justice League_.

And then the world _tilted._

" _Superman catches plane caught in tornado!"_

" _Aquaman brokers peace between the Surface world and Atlantis!"_

" _Wonder Woman Defends women's rights in middle east!"_

On and on the headlines went. Nightwing couldn't believe what he was reading. ' _Superhumans? An entire race of warrior women? Freakin fish people?'_ Thrown so far aback by just the sheer outlandishness of these apparent heros, denial set in and he couldn't read any further. He needed to really get his mind off of this...this whatever it was he read.

He sighed "I _really_ need to beat something up." he said while shaking his head.

Getting up from his position on the roof he dismissed database, brought up the map set a waypoint for the docks, since if there was a place for bad people to do bad things, it was the docks.

* * *

 _1:30 am_ his clock read and the night was still young.

He was making rounds by the warfs and all and all, it was pretty clean. He finally perched on top a stack of containers as he had to give his assessment of the place.

' _Gotta give this Bats and young me some credit. They really do run a tight-'_

"Diga hear the news guys?" a new croaky voice called out. "The boss caged _Robin!"_

"What? No way." called a second voice.

"Yah! I'm tellin the truth! The Penguin's got em locked up in a cage around his warehouse! And the best part is, the boss don't think the kid had time to call in the bat!"

Nightwing immediately honed in on the conversation. '- _ship… Well, at least my first night in this weird, alternate world would be something to remember.'_

He made his way towards the group as the more voices spoke until he ended up right above them.

' _Only five? Easy pickin.'_

He grabbed his escrima sticks prepared to make a grand entrance with an electric blast. He primed his legs and-

"That is so incredibly stupid," a 3rd thug piped in.

Stopping short of jumping in and starting a fight, he leaned back and raised a non-visible eyebrow at the thug, letting him continue.

The other thugs though, didn't seem as amused, more taken aback then anything at the sudden outburst. "W-what do you mean by 'stupid'? We got the kid, and now his daddy doesn't even know he's gone!"

"But that's just it!" The smartest thug that ever seemed to grace the earth retorted. "How many times have this situation happened before?" That seemed to cause 3 members of his audience to to actually pause and think on that for a moment. "See? you get it! The Bat and the kid are _always_ connected. I swear if get through tonight without seeing the Batman, I'm gonna reform."

That set-up was _too_ perfect.

Instead of using the electronic blast, opted to simply jump off his perch and land directly on top of one of the thugs, knocking him out instantly, as well as scaring the hell out of the rest who were shouting profanities at the sudden appearance of a new vigilante.

Using their shock to his advantage, Nightwing moved to the second thug, grabbing his arm and braking it with a satisfying * _snap!*._

To the third thug he tackled him into the side of a container, slamming him down onto the floor before doing a small vertical wall run and slamming his foot and all his weight on to the downed criminal's kneecap, going out with a nice pop.

The thug of reason, as he'd taken to calling him, slowly walked back making an expression at Nightwing as if he'd summoned a demon while lucky thug #4 made a futile attempt at making a swing at him, only to have his arm pulled out wide and broken as the vigilante punched his elbow, making it face the wrong way.

"My..my arm…it doesn't b-bend that way…" the thug said to no one in particular as the pain made him sink into unconsciousness.

The thug of reason had himself backed into the corner at this point.

"Wh- who are you?! What are you?!" He was quite scared at this point.

Nightwing slowly turned his head like a predator on the hunt, glaring at him coldly before gracing his face with a chilling smirk.

(Here's what the thug sees: a man in a black and blue suit. A man with a _V_ emblazoned on his chest like a coat of arms. A man who put down his colleagues with such speed and precision his mind couldn't register that he should be _terrified_ and should be _running for his life_ until this pivotal moment in his life.)

He chuckled. "Not Batman," he said at last before closing the distance between them in a millisecond, grabbing him by the neck and hoisting him up and slamming him on the side of the container.

He gave a genuine laugh at the criminal's expression before using his free hand to unsheathe one of his escrima sticks and positioning it close to the thug's face.

The blue knight's smirk never left his face as he turned on the electric function of his favorite weapon.

"Let's have a... little _talk_ about where your boss is, where the kid is, and how _exactly_ you intend to reform."

* * *

 **And that's the end of chapter one.**

 **As far as updating goes for this story, I'll need to determine that depending on the response I get from you guys and how well it does on the site.**

 **Reviews welcome and I'll see you next chapter.**

 **Keyrim, out.**


	2. New Old Faces

_**Wow**_ **this chapter was longer than I thought it would be. Really. I expected it to be around the 2.5 thousand mark, maybe a little more, but then i ended up with almost twice that.**

* * *

Chapter 2: A New Old Face

Nightwing always thought himself to be…mostly fair to an interrogatee when they're cooperative. Jim Andrew Curtis Lee, on the other hand, fell in as one to be too cooperative. Nightwing didn't _have_ to know his life story, but with a bit of.. _.persuasion_ he got the lowlife to skip ahead to the bits the vigilante was after.

Penguin and his mini-me seemed to be hold up in one of the larger three-section warehouses down by the wharf.

Nightwing curtly thanked Mr. Curtis...

… with a sharp blow to the neck.

(Richard felt an uneasy feeling gnawing at him as he traversed the rooftops, realizing after a while it was because of the silence. He didn't have Lucius in his ear to banter with or the constant GCPD chatter either. He pushed the feeling down, not wanting the distraction.)

When he arrived that the warehouse he perched himself on top of an inactive crane. After surveying the area for a time, the first thought that came to mind was ' _inconspicuous'._ He watched seemingly innocent dock workers go about their business moving the caches of cargo in and out of the building that your average beat-cop wouldn't spare a second glance to _._ If there was anything that he'd give ol Ozwald credit for, it was making his operations look practically invisible to the glancing eye, but not to an experienced crime fighter. Oh no, to Nightwing he could clearly see the signs of the seedy Gotham underworld and its foothold on the area.

The tells where pretty easy to distinguish to his eyes. On closer inspection, the marks of graffiti that were painted on and around around the building and its surroundings told of Penguin's presence in the. The workers themselves wore distinguishable insignias and markings on their clothing.

(Whether certain placements of the insignias signified experience or ranking in the gang, well, Nightwing didn't have enough information on how _this_ Penguin operated to be sure.)

Then there was the mannerisms of the workers themselves, not just the clothing. All the dock workers all moved with a hurry, a bit of more hustle than necessary, giving conscious glances to the roads while others to the skies, as if expecting the Bat to swoop in at any moment. Not to far off in this case.

' _The obvious reason these guys got the jitters_ ,' Nightwing concluded, ' _would_ probably _have something to do with how they got mini-me right in there personal space.'_

The intelligent plan of action would be to enter into the warehouse undetected before making any noise, which at the moment, seemed impossible. Going in through the ground was a laughably stupid plan. It was to well lit and with the sheer amount of workers running around that were so paranoid that they'd jump at the sight of their own shadow, the risk of detection was too high before he could find a point where he could grapnel onto the roof.

He made a clicking sound as he put his hand on his chin.

' _Well at least I like a challenge,'_ he chided to himself before activating his _detective vision_ in search for a clue for a way in.

"Come on, give me something," he muttered to no one in particular. He looked towards the wharf, where it was completely deserted of any cargo ships. "maybe there's a drainage pipe that runs underneath the yard.." he pursed his lip, "Nah, I didn't see any on my way over." The vigilante put his arms on his knees and sighed. "Man, it's at times like these that I wish I'd ask Lucius to install something like a wingsuit into my suit. At least then it would've made sense to be using the old man's souped up grapnel launcher. Probably could've just used that to launch off the...crane…"

His eyes widened as he looked down to the solution that was he was literally sitting on and proceeded to slowly run one of his hands down his face at his, embarrassed by own obliviousness.

The crane.

(The plan the that formed in his head was, for lack of any better term, insane. But is was just so _Batman_ , it just might actually work.)

It was so _obvious_. The thing was tall enough for sure, and just long enough for him to use the grapnel boost to slingshot himself onto the top of the building in style. Sure, the crane would be pretty loud as it moved, but at most the hired help would probably think somebody was dicking around in here, not a vigilante a work.

"God, if only Bruce could see the quick thinking crime-fighter you are now…" He immediately cringed at the resurfacing memories of his Batman pointing out the obvious solutions that Nightwing, at that point Robin, would glance over without a second thought during a case, much his embarrassment.

' _Well if your little moment of stupid/reminiscing is over with,'_ he told himself _, 'maybe we could see how'd this would actually_ work _before we get too excited?'_

Shaking his head, he blinked off his _detective vision_ and worked his way down from his perch to the control room. Confident he had a good feel for how it operated, he sparked the ignition, causing the crane to groan as it came to life. As soon as Nightwing got the greenlight it was fully operational, he had the the crane turn towards the warehouse and moved the neck downward enough that he'd get the right amount of grapnel time before he'd get launched.

The acrobat jumped down from the control room and onto a stack of cargo containers a ways below. He'd have to hurry, though they won't suspect a vigilante moved the crane, some of the workers were bound to come and investigate why the crane moved.

"Alright Grayson," he said to himself, determined to follow through with this plan, "best case scenario, you live up to your high flying roots and land on top of the building with style. Get a great conversation starter at it too. Worst case," he made a *tsk* sound with his cheek," you end up a black and blue pancake on the side of the wall. And most probably dead."

He carefully aimed the grapnel hook for the neck of the crane, orange lights coming to life on the device, signifying the boost function of it was operational. He was _not_ about to back out.

"Well," he swallowed, "fortune _does_ favor the bold."

He fired the hook.

It connected to the crane.

And then it _pulled_ Nightwing into the air.

 _Fast._

Now don't get Nightwing wrong. Using high speed grapnel hooks since he was a kid, he was bound to get used to the strain it had on the arms as well as the immediate rush of air that pounded on his face on. The first time he used one, he wasn't even officially Robin, just in training. Ignoring all the warnings given to him by his mentor and Alfred, he swiped one of his spares from the armory and aimed for one of the the higher platforms of the cave above him. When he reached the top, his arm felt like it close to ripping off, hurting more than any single session of training ever did, while tears poured out of his eyes since the sudden rush of air stung his eyes to no end. Alfred had found him like that, sitting on the floor, cradling his tortured arm and rubbing eyes furiously. When the younger Richard Grayson noticed the butler, by all outward appearances, Alfred allowed himself a small chuckle and grandfatherly smile, one you'd see when a grandfather catches his grandson with his hand in the cookie jar. But his _eyes_. They told a different story. On the inside the elderly man was dying of laughter and his eyes conveying a message that was caught between either a 'You should have listened to our warnings' and an 'I told ya _so'_. Young Dick Grayson never forgot the lesson he learned that day.

While it didn't hurt as much as it did, nor did it sting his face as much since it was covered by his mask, hot _damn_ , did this experience bring back some memories.

' _How much horsepower did Lucius pack into this thing?! And Bruce_ asked _for this?!'_

Having no more time to think, the human cannonball released the hook at the apex point of the launch, and let himself soar over rows of containers and all the workers below who had no idea this was even happening.

(For a second, he felt like he had beaten gravity. For a second, he felt like was back in the circus, in the air with his family. Flying without a care in the world.)

Then reality fell back into place and the warning bells of what would happen if he _didn't_ prepare himself for the landing.

He was going to make the jump. The roof imminently closer, he tucked into a ball and rolled as he landed, spreading out the inertia of the impact as he landed, finally coming a halt as he sprawled himself on top of the roof.

When the world stopped spinning, he sat up and calmed his breathing, adrenaline still pumping and his arm throbbing.

"Note to self… never do that again… at least on max settings."

After giving himself a moment to recollect himself, he blinked on detective vision and highlighted a vent that would lead him down into the warehouse. With a purpose, Nightwing descended into the Penguin's stronghold.

* * *

' _Well that's convenient.'_

He came to the bottom of the shaft, it opened up a perfect vantage point, high above the gun toting thugs below.

Nightwing immediately registered the familiar scenario. Detective vision turned on, he took in the area.

' _Fairly big room,'_ he observed. ' _A three level layout without to many wall separating the square room. Packaging machinery. Six suitable vantage points. A wall grate a ways up the wall.'_ He followed the outline of the vent and memorized the ventilation system that went down and under the floor. _'Plenty of floor grates too.'_

He counted nine arm thugs highlighted in orange and armed with an assortment of shotguns and automatic rifles. Most of them were making rounds around the room while other were talking to each other idly.

Then he saw a tenth, smaller figure, highlighted in blue, sitting crossed legged in a low hanging, excoticly sized bird cage.

Nightwing blinked. _'Was I really that small when I was 13?'_ was the most immediate thought that came to his mind seeing his alternate-younger-self for the first time. Then he grimaced. ' _Yeah, I probably was.'_

Turning off his _detective vision,_ he swung to one of the lower hanging vantage points to get a better view of his doppleganger.

The aforementioned doppleganger was currently sitting down, arms and legs crossed, a scowl firmly in place. No doubt the kid was _not_ happy about the situation. His face in the direction of a thug, who's eyes bore into the whites of Robin's mask.

Another thug doing around found this as curious Nightwing did and walked up to him.

"Er, Tommy? What are do-" He was shushed by the other, eyes never leaving the captive.

"Don't distract me. The kid and I are having a stare-down."

The other's face went slack, his mouth opening slightly. He turned slightly let out a muffled groan into his palm before looking back at him.

"I can't believe you're this big of an idiot. Forgetting for a moment that the boss told us not to even look at brat, You. Can't. See. His. _Eyes!_ How do you even know when he blinks?"

"Hey, this is a game of honor. I'm sure this kid respects it enough to tell me if he blinks."

Nightwing turned on his _detective vision_ and looked behind his younger's domino mask.

His eyes were closed.

The other thug's eye twitched before slapped 'Tommy's' back hard enough for him to stumble forward, breaking his concentration.

Robin's face morphed to hold a very familiar smirk on his face at the sound of the commotion.

"What the hell was that for?" Tommy call back angrily.

"For being an idiot. Now get back to making rounds and be happy that i don't tell the boss about this. Ya know, before he whips out the umbrella and shoots your stupid ass."

Tommy scowled at the other looking like he might just lunge at the other before reason seemed to win his mind over. He turned around and walked off grumbling.

The other though walked the opposite direction, no doubt pleased at winning the conversation.

Nightwing, seizing the opportunity, used his line launcher to create a tether line so he can talk to Robin. He prepared himself for what might be the most surreal conversation he'd ever have.

* * *

Robin was definitely _not_ feeling the aster.

The one night, he repeats, the _one_ night Batman leaves Gotham in his (very capable, he'd like to add) hands, he walks right into an ambush when he was investigating this very warehouse that the police suspected as being bought out by the Penguin.

' _Well they weren't wrong,'_ the Boy Wonder angrily thought to himself.

He'd been knocked out by gas and when he came too, he woke in a stupid bird cage (original, really.), striped of his holo gloves and utility belt. While he did have activate the emergency beacon that was built directly into his costume, sending a distress beacon directly to Batman, he doubted it reached as he thinks Penguin installed a jammer of some kind.

He was in the middle of creating an escape plan when he was rudely interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Hey. Hey kid. You alright?"

The voice didn't sound at all like Penguin's usual thugs, if anything it sounded eerily familiar and concerned, but he pushed that thought away since that sounded ridiculous. Why would he recognize a thug from here?

He sighed, speaking but not turning around, "You Penguin guys aren't going to get me to talk. You have a better chance of getting Batman to crack a smile."

Without missing a beat, the voice started again, this time exchanging concern for a dry tone

"I doubt that any of Cobblepot's thugs would wear a black and blue kevlar costume, much less be able to balance on a tether line, circus boy."

At the mention of _circus boy_ , Robin's whipped his head back and turned to looked at the source of the voice. His eyes met the an older guy in a black suit, with a " _V"_ on his chest that traveled up his and around his elbows, down his arms and ending at the tip of his fingers. His hair was long, black and seemed to lazily swirl to the right. His face was covered by a stylized domino mask, covering his eyes as well as seemingly popping out a but. From his crouched position, he could make out two black and blue sticks poking out from his back. Going back to his face, it was in a frown but also concerned. It was also familiar. _Really_ familiar. Like he's seen his face dozens of times but never could give a name to it.

' _Definitely a vigilante. But…'_

Robin didn't really think that he was staring for too long until he was forced out whatever thoughts wondering what _circus boy_ ment until the new guy spoke up again, concern back in his voice.

"Hello? Kid? Your giving me an odd look." A little dangerous entered his tone this time that reminded him of Batman. "They didn't give you a concussion did they?"

Shaking out of his thoughts, he replied, "What? Oh uh, yeah I'm alright. Who are you anyways?" he asked getting up from his position and walking over to the new guy who actually _was_ balancing perfectly on a tether. He could have sworn that wasn't there a minute ago.

The new vigilante let out a breath of relief, his face changing from barely veiled concern to a stoic one. His eyes shifted to the side, as if coming to a decision.

Decision made, he looked back at Robin.

"Well, if you say you're alright, I'm not about to argue. Names Nightwing by the way."

With that said, he began to walk back down the tether line.

Robin blinked. "Wait where are you going? Aren't you going to get me out of here?"

Robin cringed as soon as the words left his mouth since he said it a tad louder than he intended them to be. Thankful though the words only reached the intended target and no one else.

'Nightwing' looked back at him. "I only came to make sure you were alright, I need to clear the room before I can get you free."

Robin raised an eyebrow. This did _not_ sound like and asterous plan. "What do you mean by 'clear the room'? These guys are armed to the teeth! You can just fight them head on! You'll get slaughtered!"

Nightwing looked back at him with a smirk this time. "Oh ye' of little faith. Don't worry kid, just sit back and enjoy the show."

Looking down to the towards the ground, The mysterious vigilante dropped down to the ground level, away from Robin's view.

Robin felt helpless to do anything to stop him from taking on the armed thugs but he with a shaky sigh, decided to give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

' _I mean, he managed to find his way in here undetected right? He might (_ and this was a serious _might) know his stuff enough not to get himself killed.'_

Before Robin could calm his thoughts to listen in on what Nightwing might end up doing, two thoughts he'd have to save for later crossed his mind.

' _Why do I feel like I've seen that smirk every time I look in the mirror?'_ and ' _What the heck is a Nightwing?'_

* * *

Turning on his _detective vision_ he observed the placements of the thugs around the room. Five on the ground level and four on the second.

Peace of cake.

He slide into a corner when a thug was walking buy, used the batclaw to pull him towards him, the thug's face going from calm to confusion to terror all in the fraction of a second as Nightwing put an iron like grip around his neck cutting off his oxygen supply. As he felt the low life go limp, he released him before repelling back up onto one of the vantage points. He looked towards to the cage his younger self who had his bare hands on the bars of the cage, keeping track of his movements with a wary eye.

He chuckled. ' _Good luck with that.'_

"What the hell... oh god! HEY GUYS! WE GOT A MAN DOWN OVER HERE!"

All the thugs immediately tensed while some made their way over to their fallen comrade. three of them were over the slumped form of their comrade

"Jeez what the hell happened to him? Is he dead?"

Robin's eyes widened and looked to him fearfully. Nightwing just shook his head and motioned for him to keep on listening.

"No he's just unconscious."

"Think it's the Bat?"

"No doubt about that." The thug who was examining his fallen ally cleared his throat before addressing everyone who was still conscious. "Alright everyone, stay calm and hunt down whoever did this! Remember! There's more of us there are of him! Cut him down and maybe the boss will give us a bonus!" He motioned to one the two thugs before him. "Someone stick by the brat's cage, make sure he doesn't try anything."

And thus it all began.

Nightwing swung onto a vantage point that lone thug was on the verge of walking under it. He attached his grapnel to the point before swinging underneath it, Feet of the bottom of the point, while his head was facing the ground. When the criminal walked underneath him, Nightwing quickly repelled down, one hand on the grapnel while the other snagged the crook's collar before ascending back up, criminal in tow shouting and shooting wildly.

On top of the industrial light, he held the guy one handed by his neck, who was in a melt down of fear.

Would ya look at that. It was Tommy.

"Y-you're not Batman," he choked out.

The Blue Knight simply chuckled and let him he'd put around his legs stopped him before he face planted on the floor below.

He snuck a glance at Robin, who was in sheer awe before he swung to a different vantage point.

Tommy's allies rounded on him, looking up at him as he was flailing around like a pinata.

"How did you get up there?!"

"Just cut me down!"

Tommy, knowing he going to pass out from the blood rushing to his head, did the smart thing.

"Arg! Listen! This guy isn't the Bat! H-he's...someone new…" He went limp as darkness overtook him.

The remaining seven were terrified at the prospect of _another_ costumed vigilante who seemed just as bad as the Bat moving into town.

"Aww man, I _knew_ signin up with Penguin was a bad deal," one thug said before throwing down his weapon and making a break for the door.

" _Hey!_ Where the hell do you think your going?!" one called after him.

" _Away from here!"_

' _Oh no you don't, can't have you warn Cobblepot or anyone else.'_

He climbed up a ladder, trying to get out through the offices only for his face to be smashed in with a soaring wing-ding, propelling him back over the ledge with a shriek and knocking him out on impact.

' _Three down, six to go.'_ He bit his lip and grimaced. _'Damn, I think I was a bit too quick to the trigger, that was_ way _too visible.'_

And just like he thought, one of the thugs saw what happened, tracking where the wing-ding was thrown above.

"HE'S UP THERE! SHOOT HIM!"

He cursed as a hail of gunfire was sent his way, jumping from his perch, trying to avoid as much as could.

The vigilante remember the wall grate he'd seen earlier and made a go for it.

Throwing a smoke bomb at the wall that exploded with a sharp *Fwoosh!* he slide down to the vents underneath the floor, making his way to a thug that he'd recognised as giving the initial orders.

"He disappeared into the wall! Damn. Alright! we know what he's doing! Stick together and keep'em pointed up high!"

"Down low."

"Wha-hmph!" was all he could get out before Nightwing sprung out of the vent, looping his arm around his neck, flipped him onto the floor and slamming his head into it with a loud *Thwang* as his skull connected with metal.

"To slow."

' _5 to go. gotta finish this now.'_

"What the hell was that?"

He repelled to the top level as the remaining 5 went to the unconscious form of the guy who gave all the orders.

"Oh come on, how many is this now?"

"This is the fifth guy he's gotten. Yah know what? I say we all stick here. There ain't now way he can get all of us."

A chorus of agreements.

They thought they finally had a winning plan. How wrong they were.

Nightwings plan was simple. He used his first generation disrupter (Bruce had to just the only prototype before he disappeared) and jammed two of their weapons. Then, from his perch above them, he unsheathed his escrima sticks, picked a target, primed his legs and pounced. He knocked out the thug he landed on instantly while the other 2 lowlifes, whose guns were still functioning, were thrown to the side from the electric blast.

"What the fu-shot him!"

 _click-click_

 _click-click_

"Wha-" The thug couldn't get a word in as his face was hit but the electrified end of Nightwing's signature weapon.

' _five down, 3 left.'_

While the two low-lifes that were knocked down by the electric blast were getting up, the one still standing got bold and attempted to charge the vigilante. Unfortunately for him, Nightwing simply flipped over him as he charged straight into a wall.

When the other two regained their senses, they attempted to get back to their weapons. Seeing this, The vigilante shot a wrist dart into one's head before lunging to the other, using his escrima sticks to create an arc of electricity stunning him.

And then he proceeded to beat. Him. Down. With style. To finish him off, he kicked in the chest and into the wall, took a step back, and ran his knee into his face.

Needless to say, he was down for the count.

He took a deep breath, satisfied with his work.

' _Rooms clear, time to get mini me.'_

* * *

Who the heck was this guy. _Seriously._

He cleared the room in no time flat.

Robin was currently pacing back and for, reviewing what he watched from his cage and was awed by just how efficient and quick thinking the guy was. He could go on and on about what Nightwing did right, but there was one that just stood out. Just how efficient he was at _intimidation_. He didn't think anyone other than his _mentor_ could so thoroughly scare thugs into a quivering mess.

He ceased all his current thoughts when he saw Nightwing approach the door to his cage.

"Sorry I took so long kid," he tried to joke. Robin didn't laugh.

He approached the door, took out a device from... _somewhere_ out behind him that looked like a high tech glue gun and sprayed it in the henges of the door. "you uh.. might want to take a step back," he said somewhat awkwardly. Putting two and two together to what the spray actually was, he went to a corner of the cage and shielded himself with his cape. Robin heard a _click_ then felt as the cage shook from the explosion.

Taking the cape away from his eyes, he saw Nightwing's outstretched hand to help him up. He looked up at his face, and the older vigilante had a.. genuine smile of his face. After looking back at his hand for a moment, he decided to take the risk and accept it.

"Hope that didn't shake that up to bad," he chuckled, "but we really do need to move on. We need to recover your gear," he motioned to Robin's bare hands and missing utility belt, " _and_ stop Cobblepot's operation."

Nightwing started to walk back out the cage.

Robin didn't follow him.

He noticed this and looked back at him raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

Robin looked him directly in the eye. " _Who are you?"_

* * *

 **Suggestions anyone? I'd rather avoid cheese where I can.**

 **Also If anyone would like to possibly beta for me, send me a PM, por favor.**


	3. My Brand of Justice

**Alright, bit of explaining to do. I originally planned to drop this on Monday this week, and then I realized that Christmas was around the corner so I was going to post it then and I extended the chapter for it. But a friend of mine reminded me to stick to my original promise so… here you go.**

 **1 more thing.**

 **-I screwed up Robin's age, he is actually 13. I will eventually go back and fix that.**

* * *

" _Who are you?"_ Robin said, his arms crossed, a scowl reminiscent of their mentor firmly in place.

Nightwing's head reared back slightly at the tone.

"I mean, really. How has the League never heard anything about you?" he went on, "And for that matter how has _Batman_ never heard of you? He's got dossiers on every hero that's ever been sited! And some just turned out to never of even existed!"

Well that definitely _did_ sound like something Bruce would do, paranoid as he gets.

"Whoa there kid, calm dow-" Nightwing attempted to pacify him but was interrupted by another rant.

"And another thing!" He pointed to his costume as he rambled on. "Where did you get that kind of training? Or that _gear,_ huh? There's no way you could've learned those sort of moves through conventional means unless…" His eyes widened and took a step back as his bare fists clenched and his voice became lower as well as more steely, "Are you with the Shadows?"

"Ras's bunch?! There's no way I'd be involved wit-" Nightwing stopped himself short and took a breath. This was getting them nowhere. If he wanted this situation to end, he'd have to chose his words carefully. Putting his hands up in a peaceful manner, he decided to give him a compromise. With an easy voice he started, "Alright look, I know that my sudden appearance has put you a bit on edge and," he put a hand up, "I freely admit, was a being a bit thick headed in thinking that you'd follow me with how little I've told you about myself." Seeing the younger Grayson lose some of the tension in his stance (not really _relaxed,_ but just not look like he was about to run off the moment Nightwing steps away from the door.), he presented his deal. "How 'bout this. I'll give you my life story but only after _we_ put a stop to Cobblepot's operation here, as well as get back your gear."

Before Robin could say anything in either disagreement or otherwise, he added, " _And_ I'll answer any questions that'll take less than a minute to explain while we're still here. I _promise,_ " he stressed, his face conveying as much sincerity as he possibly could.

Robin pursed his lips and examined Nightwing's face for any tell of deception behind the sincerity. "How do I know I can trust you?" he finally said after a moment of internal debate.

Nightwing knew this was a test. That question was so broad that it can trick any falsities to come out without the person answering even realising it. The right words with the wrong tone would be all it would take to screw any progress he'd made with him.

Sighing and looking to the floor he started, "You don't need to trust _me_ if you don't want to Robin. Not yet I hope..." He took a breath and raised his head, looking Robin's covered eyes with his own. "But trust me to be _me,_ a hero, and stop Cobblepot before he can do anymore harm to our city. Our _home._ "

* * *

Robin looking at his face at Nightwing's face, trying to find a hint at decit, an ulterior motive, _something._ But he found none. The mysterious vigilante's face was full of determination, unwilling to let Robin's thoughts form any doubts.

Robin's face scrounged up then dropped as he couldn't find any ammo to argue with him. Breaking eye contact with his rescuer and letting his arms fall from their crossed position he finally answered back, "Fine, I'll stick around with you until we get a few good shots in at Penguin and get my stuff back." He looked back at Nightwing's face, pointed a finger at him, and put a daring smirk on his face. " _And_ now you have to play twenty question with me for the foreseeable future," he said, his voice taking a playful tone. If he does _have_ to rely on this guy to get his stuff back, there was no point in being a sourpuss about it.

Nightwing let out a breath and chuckled, his face and tone mirroring Robin's, though to a lesser degree. "I wouldn't of had it any other way. Alright, let's go, we've been here too long," he said while walking out the door of the cage and motioning for him to follow.

Robin let out a laugh and bristley walked after him, his cape flapping behind him. ' _Maybe tonight won't be so bad after all.'_

As the newly formed due walked their way through the cleared room, Robin couldn't help but observe his handiwork, his eye wandering towards the lone body that swing absent mindedly from an industrial light up on the ceiling. "Uh.. he's not going to just fall and crack his head right?"

Without stopping, Nightwing turned his head to regard the guy he strung up. He was about to open his mouth and say something when he stopped walking suddenly, and snapped his head a thug whose comatose body was slumped against a wall. He changed course and walked towards him.

Robin blinked at the sudden behavior and quirked an eyebrow as he followed. "Er..hey! What's wrong?" he asked the older vigilante, but he didn't listen to him.

He frowned. "Hey! I thought you'd always answer my questions! What are you-" he stopped short as he finally heard what had caught his rescuer's attention.

* _Hello? Hellooo? Anyone there? Damn, is this thing even on?*_ a naisily, yet at the same time deep voice called out on the radio.

Nightwing crouched over the unconscious receiver of the call, searched his pockets and grabbed the bulky communicator from his pocket. He turned around for Robin to observe it before an idea seemed to form in his mind, shown through a diabolical smile that slowly crept onto his lips.

Not really seeing where this was going, Robin stood back and observed as Nightwing cleared his throat and straightened his face.

What he did next would create a memory that Robin will always laughing at whenever it was brought up.

He replied back in the best "thuggy" impression he's heard in awhile, "Er- yeah, I got ya loud'n clear."

* _Oh finally.*_

The guy actually _bought_ it.

 _*What's up with the sudden radio silence, man? Any longer and the boss woulda freaked! In fact he is!*_

Nightwing got up and started walking back towards the door, motioning once again for Robin to follow, then responded with an implied nervous tone that made Robin cover his mouth as the snickers spilled from his mouth. "Oh, uh… I honestly don't know how, but the kid made our things go haywire." He looked back at Robin with a playful smirk on his lips. "The little brat," he added.

Robin immediately stopped laughing, crossed his arms and pouted childishly, and quietly called out an indignant " _hey!"_

Nightwing's smirk broke into an infectious smile (not a full blown grin, but close) and his shoulders shook with amusement before the voice on the radio started again.

* _Ha! Yah, amen to that.*_ the guy on the other end seemed hear Robin's childish out cry as his voice was took an amused tone.

' _Great,'_ he thought to himself, _'now I'm the butt of the joke now?'_

If Robin was being honest with himself though, he really did enjoyNightwing's sense of humor. While the guy was serious a lot of the time like Batman, he still allowed it in himself to crack a smile every once in awhile.

"Alright, alright," Nightwing said calling the attention of Robin and the guy on the radio back to him, "what did ya need?" he asked.

 _*Huh? Oh uh right.*_ the guy said sheepishly. _*Anyways the boss wants one of you to get the kid from the cage and to the arena he just had us made for the tournament.*_

 _That_ made Nightwing go back to his more serious demeanor as well as make Robin tence at what the guy meant by that.

When the duo reached the door, Nightwing stopped and put his hand on the wall next to it, his attention solely focus on the guy on the other end. Robin in the other hand, leaned against the wall, listening intently for whatever they had planned out for him.

Nightwing started trying to get information from the guy, his at first jovial sounding thuggy voice becoming a bit more forced and hard.

"I'm sorry man but what tournament exactly? My memory ain't really what it should be. Too many knocks to the head yah know?"

* _Huh? Well I think the boss didn't have anyone guarding the kid know in the first place. Yah know, so nobody in there lets it slip to the kid. Eh, don't really matter at this point I guess.*_

"Oh yah I get it, really," Nightwing forced out. "So do ya mind telling me about this little tournament then? Yah know, since I never really knew any details before this?"

Robin was kind of impressed at how well he was drawing the guy out. It was like he was doing an interrogation without the interrogatee even realizing.

The guy went on, _*Well it ain't so much a tournament as it is a free-for-all brawl. Hell, the boss cleared out the big ass storage room into a arena like deal. Boss is gonna be there too.*_

' _Alright, so we know where Penguin's gonna be and we got a general location, now all that's left is finding my gloves and utility belt_ ,' Robin thought as he was mentally filing the information in his head.

Voicing Robin's thoughts, Nightwing asks the guy, "So what about the kid's gear? I could get somebody to get that for ya…"

* _The brats stuff? The boss has i- oh crap.*_

There was a noise happening on the other end off the call, someone was doing some yelling and it sounded like some glass shattering. The two listening in on this glanced at each other and Nightwing shrugged.

Suddenly a familiar cockammamy accent was voiced. * _Gimme that, lumpty. I don't_ _ **pay**_ _you to have Sunday conversations! Honestly what's takin ya so long!*_

 _*S-sorry Mr. Cobblepot, sir,*_ the first guy on the radio squeaked. * _We were j-just talkin about your tournament is all, sir.*_

Robin was unsure whether to laugh at the poor guy or feel sorry for him. He opted to laugh.

Nightwing decided now was a good time to keep moving and moved through the door, Robin following behind, to reveal some empty offices and a hallway. On the wall at the very end, there was written in white paint 'Tournament this way!' with an arrow pointing left to another set of hallways.

Everyone in the place must of gone to this tournament, the halls were practically deserted

* _Oh?*_ Oswald continued on the the other end with heavy sarcasm. _*Well I guess everythings well and good then.*_

 _*R-really?*_

 _*Of course not you moron! Now get back to work before I_ ' _relieve' you of services to me_ _and get Tiny to show you the door!*_

Robin was sure that whoever 'Tiny' was, he definitely was one Penguin's enforcers since the poor sap on the receiving end of Penguin's tirade let out a shaky _*Y-yes Mr. Cobblepot. T-thank you Mr. Cobblepot!*_ then hastily ran off, away from the audible range of the phone.

Robin looked walked a bit ahead of Nightwing and looked at his face. It had a strange quisitive look at the mention of whoever the 'Tiny' was. Maybe he's heard of him before?

The crime lord seemed to realized that his speech was being broadcast.

* _Now to_ you. _I want your name.*_ he demanded.

Nightwing seemed to of prepared something for this since began a reply without missing a beat in his impression again. "Yes sir, the names-"

He wasn't allowed to finish.

* _Actually I don't care what your name is. Just get the Bat brat down here now or I'll send down some of me boys who_ actually _know how to get simple things done!*_

Nightwing, seemingly content with all the information he's gotten this far, decided to end conversation.

In a jovial tone, he replied, "Yes Captain Shortstack, Sir!"

That set off Cobblepot's already short fuse. *WHA-* That was as far as he got before Nightwing crushed the device in hand and then just letting it fall to the ground.

"Alright," he said to Robin as he turned at the end of the corridor, towards the arena, "you've been patient this long, ask away."

Robin actually briefly forgot about that for during that whole conversation, but breathed out a "finally" and spilled out the forefronting questions that immediately came rush to his mind.

* * *

It was nice to Nightwing to see that Cobblepot was pretty much the same across universe he was in. Judging by his voice, he could tell that even his personality was same to.

And then there's whoever this ' _Tiny'_ was. Seeing as the Tiny in his home universe was a shark, Nightwing really hoped he wouldn't be fighting a guy who was half shark, half man. Then again, _Tiny_ is a fairly common nickname for thugs, so maybe he was overthinking this.

Speaking what he should be thinking on, his mini-me.

' _I really should've expected this.'_ Nightwing though as his younger self asked question after question, but with the patience only Batman could instile, he curtly answered every one. He knew that Robin was starting off with small questions at first, then attempt to slip in a juicy question so Nightwing might slip and reveal something sensitive before he'd catch himself.

"What's so special about those sticks on you back?" the kid would ask.

"Their called escrima sticks, and they can go _zap_ ," Nightwing would reply.

"What do you call your batarangs?"

"I was going to call them night-a-rangs at first, but then I settled on wing-dings."

" _Wing-dings?"_

"I threw a chicken-wing at a bar bell once. It went _ding_ and the idea just _hit me_." he had said dramatically as he raised his slowly arms for effect.

"Alright, then why do you walk so funny?"

Nightwing blinked, spun around and raised an eyebrow at the younger Grayson. "What do you mean by 'funny'?"

"Well," Robin started as he walked ahead of Nightwing, "you sorta walk like this all the time."

Robin, still walking forward tilted his head back and walked with his hands clenched, his steps even and controlled.

The more experienced vigilante frowned. _'I don't walk like that.'_

He softly hit Robin on the back of the head, _"_ I do _not_ walk like that," he repeated and took back his place ahead of Robin.

He simply chuckled though, taking no offence as he rubbed the back of his head from the light hit.

" _Suuure_ you don't."

* * *

This sort of questioning continued until they heard the crowd. As they went down the hall, the sound of the it grew louder as well as a familiar voice commentating on a fight.

Finally they reached the end of the path with a bunch of arrows pointing towards a door with a sign above it that read 'storage room' as well as in white paint ' _New meat through here!'_.

"Well it seems like the parties through here," he said to his younger self. Turning his head away from the door on the left, he saw a wall vent on the ground ahead of him. He approached it, ringed his hands around the edges, heaved and tore it clean off. He turned back to Robin, who had his arms crossed and raising an eyebrow at him. "What? It's not like they'll hear it." he said a tad defensively.

Robin shook his head,"Not exactly what I was thinking," he replied then walked over to Nightwing. "So is this the plan? We go up the vents, go around the crowd and get Penguin from behind?"

Now Nightwing shook his head, confusing Robin to where he intended to go with this. "No, _you_ are goin up the vents, climb up to the rafters and wait till you get a shot at Cobblepot while _I,"_ he walked over to the door, leaned against the wall next to it, and pointed his thumb at the message painted in white, "the play distraction so you can cross the room without any eyes on you."

Robin was gobsmacked at the idea. "What?! Why can I go in with you?," he raised his arms in a questioning position. "I haven't gotten any action all night! I've just been playing sideliner this whole time!"

Nightwing tilted his head. Wow, he remembered being exactly in his younger self's position during his time as Robin (irony withstanding). Really it's a plan of action that _his_ Batman liked to use with his partners, the majority of times when they were just fresh out of the 'Bat's school for hard knocks'. While the villain was distracted from screaming 'advice' to his thugs on how to take down Batman, his protege meanwhile would be sneaking up behind him and then take him down when they had an opening, cutting of the head of the snake and sending the remaining henchmen in a confused frenzy. Three out of three times, however, his proteges didn't like having to take a backseat and having to watch Batman have all the 'fun' (while Bruce never called it _fun_ , Nightwing would be damned if he didn't think the old man didn't have a mental smirk on his mind every time he snapped a guy's arm). And every time Batman would give the same argument that silenced anymore challenges to his command.

So in this instance, Nightwing decided to use a similar means to getting this Robin to listen. Putting on a light scolding tone, he replied, "Do you have shock absorbent gloves?"

Robin blinked, putting down his arms and looked at his bare hands. "Well no bu-"

"Then unless you want your hands to be covered in bruises and cuts," the older vigilante cut in, "I suggest listening to my plan."

He turned away from Nightwing, embarrassed.

"Geez, you sound like Batman…" he heard Robin muttered to himself as he looked down quietly but still loud enough to reach his ears. "Alright," he said after a moment, looking back up, "I'll follow your plan. But how do you plan on taking out all those guys?" he asked, gesturing through the door to the crowd of thugs beyond it. "There got to be, like, twenty guys plus Penguin through that door."

Nightwing looked at the wall and turned on his _detective vision._ Turning it back off and looking at a startled looking Robin he curtly said, "twenty- _three,_ minus Penguin." correcting him.

Robin mouth slightly opened before closing. he spoke again, "How do you know that? And what was with your eyes, huh? They went all like, blue for a second."

Seeing no harm in it and answering all his questions was part of the deal, he decided to tell him. "It's called _detective vision_ , and it lets me see through a room."

The younger Grayson started to rub his temple at this point. "Ya know, the point of answering questions is to not have more then when you started..." he grumbled.

Nightwing chuckled. "Well you're going to have to hold em till _after_ we wrap this up." He took out a few wing-dings and handed them to Robin. "Here, take these incase you get into a jam."

Robin took the wing-dings and stared at them for a moment before speaking, "Ok, last question."

Nightwing was already about to go through the door before stopping and humoring Robin. Looking at him he asks, "What?"

"W-where do you keep getting these?" he said waving a wing-ding in his hand. "You don't have a utility belt. So what? Do you have a magic pocket that you keep all this stuff in?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you later."

Robin mumbled a 'fine' before disappearing up the vent.

* * *

Nightwing waited until he could hear light *thumps* of Robin's feet in the vent above him before he turned on his _detective vision_ one last time to observe the room.

From what he could see, there were in fact twenty-three thugs in the room minus Cobblepot. Cobblepot was infact seated on top of a storage container with a makeshift seat short enough that his feet would touch the ground. While there were three thugs hashing it out in the arena, the other twenty were on spread around on top of other containers lower than Penguin's. The containers were spread out to create a circle around the fighters while the others whooped and cheered for the combatants.

Right in front of the door was a thug leaning on the it, watching the fight and smoking a cigarette.

Nightwing turned off his _detective vision_ , knocked on the door and took a step back.

The door open revealing the thug though he didn't turn around to see the vigilante.

His voice definitely matched his habit, since he spoke in a gravely voice, "You're late dumbass. Anyways the next fight's going to be in a- _OOh_ thats gotta hurt-in a bit. So just hold tight till the boss-"he finally turned around to see Nightwing who had his arms crossed and was raising an invisible eyebrow at him and froze. He dropped the cig, squashed it under his foot, sighed and looked at Nightwing with a frown. "...This is gunna hurt. Ain't it?"

Nightwing could only nod before he sent the thug hurtling through the door.

The fighters in the center stopped to look at the vigilante's entrance. The crowd did the same, completely silenced, all eyes on Nightwing, including Cobblepot who was standing up from his seat.

' _Time to perform.'_ Nightwing though as he confidently walked forward towards the center of the arena, the fighters in the center backing away from him warily.

Stopping at the center, he merely looked up at Penguin, who was looking down at him with a sneer. The audience's eyes were on him. How he played the crowd would determine how they'd perform in the ensuing fight.

In a strong, chilling voice, loud enough to address everyone in the room, he spoke, "Cobblepot."

The Penguin wasn't having any of it. "And who do you think you are, barging in on one of _my_ establishments? _Hmm?_ " His voice only got louder as he spoke.

Nightwing retorted without missing a beat in the same tone as before. "Your little operation here is done, _Oz."_

" _Ooooh,"_ he mocked, "So the boy here thinks he's _Batman_ now does he? Well, lemme tell you something _pretty boy,"_ he stretched that last part, "even Batman wouldn't be stupid enough to walk into a room full of me best boys," he said gesturing to all the criminals in the room, who were starting to get some bravado back from there boss's compliment. A couple of them shouted out ' _Yeah!'_

Nightwing marked that up as one difference between this Cobblepot and his own. This one was actually _somewhat_ charismatic enough to raise some spirits. ' _I guess this onion has some layers.'_

The vigilante turned his head to glance behind him and saw that some thugs on the containers made there way down and were grouping up. He tilted his head upward a bit and from the corner of his eye he could make out Robin on the top of the rafters high above them, watching.

"I'll tell ya what boys," Penguin spoke up again with a wicked smile, "The one to off the pretty boy here'll get a nice, hefty payment in advance. Now," he sat back down on his seat," Show'em what the Penguin's boys do to wanna-be vigilantes who roll up on _MY_ turf!"

Nightwing, sensing the impending fight, turned around to meet the group of thugs.

One of the more daring ones walked ahead of the group.

"Some one check the clock," he spoke with an australian accent as he cracked his knuckles, "cuz I believe it's _go time_!"

And with that, they charged.

Or they would of, if the guy infront didn't get immediately pulled towards Nightwing from his batclaw. As he stumbled forward, Nightwing lunged at the guy and decked him with a clothesline. But that wasn't it, while the thug was suspended in the air, the vigilante brought his elbow down on the thug, slamming him onto the ground clutching his stomach.

Nightwing brought his eyes back up to Penguin, glossing over the group of the thugs in front of him who were beginning to lose their nerve.

He smirked at Cobblepot, "Is that all of em? Pity."

He unsheathed his escrima sticks, set them to their combat settings, and plunged into the crowd.

* * *

Robin was just _enthralled_ at the display before him. It occurred to Robin that the armed thugs that were guarding him got off _easy_. The most they got was a concussion.

These guys who had the misfortune of going hand-to-hand with Nightwing, didn't get off as easily.

From his perch from the rafters, high above any wandering eyes, he had a stellar view to the action above. Occasionally he could make hear and see the crackle of Nightwing's escrima sticks come to life when they smash into the thugs heads.

It was then that Robin saw how incredibly _brutal_ Nightwing was as a crime-fighter. On one thug he smashed both ends of his escrima sticks on either side of his temple before catching one thug's leg in one arm, flipping the escrima stick in the other hand and shoving the electrified end into the poor guy's stomach, blowing him back.

Robin had to tear his eyes away from the action below. "Focus," he said to himself. "Ignore the awesome stuff going on and do your _job_." He continued to work his way along the rafters, jumping from one perch to the other and making his way above the fight while listening to the almost rhythmic sounds of the fight below and the occasional crackle from Nightwing's escrima sticks coming to life.

" _Come on_!" He could hear Penguin shout, "There just _toothpicks!_ 'Least hit him once!"

Giving into temptation, he looked down again to the fight, just in time to see Nightwing lunge for a thug who seemed smart enough grab a makeshift shield. Only it didn't work so well as he reached around the shield with his escrima stick, shocking him in the side to which the thug jumped back away from it. Nightwing then swung around the pole and brought his his foot down on the thug's leg, shattering his shin.

Robin had to look away at the sight of the now misshapened leg.

" _Jeez,"_ he heard one of the thugs shout, "This vigilante don't mess around!"

He jumped to another rafter, this time above Penguin.

' _Maybe one more peek won't hurt.'_

He looked down.

Nightwing smashed a guy's head into a circuit box on one of the walls. Practically frying him.

He looked back up.

' _I'm just gonna keep going…_ '

Thinking that this was as good as a position as any, he jumped down using his cape to slow his descent and land softly behind Penguin's throne, whose owner was thankfully distracted by the fight.

That was when he saw them. His beloved gloves and utility belt, just sitting behind the throne.

' _Well for all the headache I was put through today, at least this was surprisingly easy.'_ he thought to himself as he equipped his gear, relishing in the comforting feeling tight feeling his gloves gave him.

His happy thoughts, however, were interrupted when he heard an incredibly deep voice speak behind him. "What do you think you are doing?" the heavily russian voice growled.

Robin quickly turned around and looked up at the man.

And up and up.

So _that's_ Tiny.

' _Sorry Alfred, but it just needs to be said.'_ he thought before using a time honored phrase.

"Awww, crap."

* * *

" _You're all fired!_ " Penguin yelled at all the thugs who were sprawled across the floor.

Nightwing was having fun. Really.

To him, there's nothing like taking on a crowd of criminals, completely beating the odds while listening to the big baddies ironic, if not redundant, commentary on the fight.

All the thugs that were previously full of bravado at the beginning of the fight were now either unconscious or writhing pain at Nightwing's feet, probably debating whether or not they should've come in for work today.

He'd probably think that Cobblepot (who at this point was fuming at seeing the entire room littered with his gang's uncounted bodies) was just about done for at this point.

He would've, if he didn't see his younger self get hurled from behind Penguin's throne with a yell right to his feet.

Nightwing rushed towards him and brought him to stand up. His hand on his shoulder, he gave him a small assessment. He seemed fine, if a bit scuffed up. "You alright?" he asked.

"Been worse," replied Robin, if a bit shaky, "Well I got my stuff back. Oh, and I met Tiny."

Nightwing looked back up to see a hulking figure standing next to Penguin, who had a cruel smile.

"Oh ho ho," Penguin spoke, "Now ain't this a treat. The bird boy and the pretty boy." He looked at Tiny. "Show Em what for Tiny, an all these worthless dunder heads' pay is yours."

Tiny nodded and jumped down into the arena with a thud. "Apologies for this," he growled with a heavy russian accent, "But I must break you," he cracked his neck, " _Americans."_

Nightwing thought up a spir of the moment plan.

"Robin," he said gaining the the younger's attention,"When I start running at him, throw a shuriken at his face, got it?"

"A wha-?" the younger Grayson started but couldn't finish since Nightwing started to run at Tiny.

It turns out that instead of a shuriken, a disk was thrown past him at the beast of a man. It did what was intended, momentarily distract him while Nightwing slide into one of his feet, knocking him on to his knee and putting him off balance. Before Tiny could regain any focus, Nightwing backhanded the side of his head, dazing him even further. Finally, he used his body as a step-ladder, running up and gaining some height before crashing his fist right into his face, knocking him out cold.

Before he could mentally celebrate his victory however, pain immediately blossomed-is that the right word? No, more like it _exploded_ in his side. He stumbled towards Robin, who was shouting in denial, before finally falling on his back.

He lifted his head up to see Penguin, smirking cruelly with a smoking umbrella in his hands.

Before he could pass out, he saw the ceiling window shatter, and a bat-shaped silhouette come through and land in between Penguin and Robin who was crouching over Nightwing.

Nightwing let out a shaky chuckle. "Always the master of arriving on time…" he said before blacking out.

* * *

 **I felt like I was a bit inconsistent with Nightwing's character but then i looked over my notes and I remembered how I wanted to portray him. Don't worry, if you're a bit confused, the next chapter is gonna clear some things up.**

 _ **Preview**_

" _I'm glad to see that your awake," said Alfred, then as if testing something he added, "Master Richard."_

 _Richard Grayson's unmasked eyes widened._

 **Keyrim, out.**


	4. Unresolved

**Are you one of those kinds of people who say "** _ **Man, I hope I get sick so I don't have to go to work/school today so I can play video games all day."**_ **Well let me tell you. Getting sick really sucks. You can't do nothing. at all.**

 **Oh and before I forget.**

 **To** _ **Guest**_ **.**

 **I. Am. A** _ **man.**_

* * *

It was the final battle for Gotham.

All of the GCPD's most wanted has been apprehended, except for one.

The militia was on its last legs, its forces decimated by Batman's guerrilla attacks on its outposts spread across the city. Now here, on Founder's Island, was where the last Commander of the militia was stationed.

It was also this Commander, coincidentally, that was currently tackling Nightwing off a building.

Nightwing let out a yell as the pavement grew ever closer. He landed with a thud, creating a small splash in the mud on the road as the overhead storm raged on. While Nightwing's armor absorbed the majority of the impact, it couldn't stop the crash from cracking a rib or two. _'Thats not gunna be pretty in the morning...'_ he thought groggily as he attempted to regain his senses as well as feeling in his back.

He opened his eyes, expecting his attacker to have a sword to his throat, only to find him noticeably absent. ' _He must used his grapnel gun to get off me before we hit the paveme-oh that smarts…'_ he concluded as be slowly brought himself up to stand, cradling his injured side as he did so.

Finally on his legs, he looked up to see that his assumption was right, as his opponent, Deathstroke, was rappelling down a little ways away from Nightwing. ' _Jesus Bruce, you weren't lying. Guy packs a punch.'_ Nightwing thought as he stopped tending his side, instead putting his arms to his side to appear ease, although he couldn't do anything about his irregular breathing.

' _Never show any weakness in front of an opponent,'_ Bruce's voice lectured in his head. ' _You'll lose any form of respect they'd have for you if they know they've inflicted any kind of damage.'_

Deathstroke landed on the street with a thud, his armor rippling from the impact. In one of his hands he had a sword and in the other he had one of Nightwing's escrima sticks. He looked at Nightwing, his one eye glaring into him. It was full of barely held fury as well as some disappointment.

"This fight was not meant for _you,_ boy," Deathstroke said with a deadly edge in his voice as he sheathed his sword. "This is between myself and Wayne. _You,"_ he pointed at him with his own escrima stick," have no place in this."

Nightwing could've really said something witty at this point but he was beyond worn down from tonight, so instead he growled and replied, "Like I'd just stand aside and let him walk into your trap." He spit out some blood in his mouth. "You call yourself a mercenary with honor? You were just going to box him in and send in waves of your tanks. You call that _honorable?"_

"I don't need to explain myself to somebody who's not worth my time," he growled back.

Then from the buildings behind their commander, unmanned drone tanks began to appear.

His eyes widened and he took an unconscious step back when the tanks pointed there barrels at him.

Deathstroke caught this and let out a mirthless chuckle, his one eye never leaving Nightwing. "Perhaps I'll forgo this trophy and present it to Batman, seeing as you consider him your kin," he said referring to the collapsed escrima stick he held before attaching it to his belt. "Besides, I doubt he'll have time to scrap off your remains from the road before he has to face me." He raised his arm to his mouth and spoke to the com within it. "Lieutenant, aim to kill."

Nightwing shielded his eyes and braced for the end.

…

Only it never came.

 _What?_

Confused, he unshielded his eyes to see Deathstroke with a similar reaction, Looking back at his tanks that refused to fire.

Deathstroke brought back up his communicator gauntlet to find out what was wrong.

" _Lieutenant!_ I said fire! That was an _order!_ "

Nightwing's cowl mask intercepted the call.

 _*-ing's wrong, Sir! My controls aren't responding. Somebody's hijacked my systems!*_

Then a familiar voice spoke within Nightwing's earpiece. " _How do you boys live without me?"_ it asked with poorly veiled amusement.

Nightwing immediately recognized the female voice and a small, yet evil grin broke out on his face as he realised at what just happened. "Oracle I could _kiss_ you right now!" he said as he dashed away from Slade and his army of tanks before he could react and grappled up to a safer location.

" _Don't even think about it Grayson, you're too old for me. And besides, this girl's spoken for_."

He barked out a laugh at the sass.

"How'd you disable the tanks?" He asked as he took cover behind a wall on a roof.

He heard a her make a clicking sound with her cheek. " _Well…"_

Then all of a sudden tank fire began to hit the building he'd taken shelter on, shaking the very foundations with each shot.

 _*I've regained control!*_

" _It was only temporary."_

" _Oh_ no kidding." came the sarcastic reply as a shell casing exploded a bit too close for Nightwing's comfort.

" _Oh relax you big baby. The cavalry's about to arrive."_

Then Nightwing heard it over the sound of the tanks.

He dared to peek over his cover in time to see the grey-yellow Batmobile drift in front of Deathstroke's line of tanks, seamlessly switch into battle-mode and take out the first drone within its sites.

Nightwing _wished_ he could see what kind of expression Deathstroke held behind his mask as he realised that the tables have been flipped.

His imagination was interrupted, though, as a his mentor's voice came through the comms. " _Nightwing._ "

Nightwing slightly winced at the tone but was nevertheless grateful to hear his mentor's voice again. Especially after _that_ happened.

"Hey boss-man, sorry to start the party without yah..." he attempted at a joke but humor wasn't there as _everyone_ present knew where this was going.

Ignoring the bad joke but acknowledging that it was a sign he was alright, Batman continued. _"Nightwing, I will remain in the Batmobile and fight off the militia's forces while you take down Slade. The Militia is getting debunked. Now."_

Nightwing was flabbergasted that Bruce would want _him_ to take down Deathstroke, especially after with what happened with Cobblepot a few hours ago.

"Bats, are you sure?" he started. "I don't kno-"

" _Dick_." Bruce interrupted. " _I trust in you and your ability. You can do this. I know you can_." His voice was still sharp, but convoyed sincerity.

"...Alright."

" _Good._ " And with that, the Batmobile quickly changed into its pursuit mode and rammed into the closest tank before going back to battle mode and engaging the militias drones.

' _Alright, you somehow managed to get him to show you a his faith in you. No real room to mess up now,'_ he thought to himself as he looked back to where Deathstroke was before Batman arrived only to find him noticeably absent.

' _Oh right, I saw him grapple up to the building opposite of mine as soon as the Tank-Mobile arrived.'_

Aiming for the building across from him, he used the line launcher to cross over the battlefield as the Batmobile waged war on the tanks below, narrowly avoiding shots and returning any that find its mark two-fold.

On the other rooftop he found Slade yelling orders in his comms at the lieutenant to send in reinforcements.

"I want that car _destroyed,"_ He yelled, "There's only one way this should end lieutenant. Make it happen."

He turned around in time to barely avoid the wing-ding aimed for the back of his head.

 _Now_ he had his attention fully on Nightwing.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you in the middle of something?" Nightwing quipped sardonically, but their was no look of amusement, or even the hint of a smile on his face. This was no time for smiles.

His eye narrowed dangerously. " _You._ You ruined everything."

He unsheathed his sword, got into his stance and growled at Nightwing. "Now I have to wasn't my time on someone who _earned_ it."

Nightwing reached for his escrimas sticks out of habit, but only found one. Looks like he'd have to fight Deathstroke bare-fisted. Taking a stance similar to one of Bruce's earliest styles, he readied himself.

Deathstroke eyed the stance with a bit of recognition. He regarded it. "You're no Batman."

"I'm _more_ than enough to take you," came his reply.

Slade growled and charged, sword gleaming in the rain.

It was like something out of a movie, this fight.

Nightwing vs Deathstroke on the roof while a battle was being waged not even 2 stories below them whilst the storm raged.

Nightwing aimed two jabs at Slade's face to which he ducked under and delivered a kick to his chest to create some space. In the same motion, he aimed a two handed overhead strike to Nightwing's head only to hit it stopped when he grabbed his wrists. Nightwing used the strike's momentum and rolled back, flipping Deathstroke over him.

The mercenary was thrown a couple feet away but rolled to his feet in a fluent motion, the experienced fighter that he was, getting up but turned away from Nightwing.

He took it as an opening.

Deathstroke turn right into a punch to his face.

He took another punch from the vigilante to his abdomen before dodging the third with a roll to his side.

Seeing the incoming counter attack, Nightwing blocked the to two slashes with his wrists, the tempered blade cutting grooves into the armor on his forearms, though not deep enough to draw blood. He could react in time, though, to keep from getting slashed at his lower stomach.

He grunted in pain and kicked at Slade, creating some space.

"First blood is mine," Deathstroke taunted.

The wound was bleeding, in truth, but it wasn't deep.

"It won't be the last," Nightwing shot back without missing a beat.

He pointed his sword at him. "You should be proud in proving me wrong. You _are_ worth my time in that you're shaping up to be an adequate warm-up for Wayne."

Nightwing growled and the two charged at each other once more.

They continued to exchange blows, taking a mile for every inch given when they can. Meanwhile below, the battle raged between the Batmobile and Oracle vs the Militia's last horde of drones.

Nightwing landed a powerful quick to Deathstroke's chest, making a dent in the mercenary's chestplate, as well as knocking back him across the rooftop.

Slade put his free hand on the dent and glared at Nightwing who allowed himself to smirk a little.

This enraged the Terminator as his head shook slightly with fury. With a growl he threw down a flash bomb, effectively screwing with Nightwing's vision.

" _NIGHTWING!"_

His vision cleared up in time to register Deathstroke was above him, sword primed and about to come down on his head.

He blocked the strike with his already carved up gauntlet.

Then another swing came. Blocked.

And another swing. Blocked.

And another. Blocked.

Hit. Block.

Hit. Block.

Hit. Block.

Hit. Block.

Hit. Block.

With a yell Slade brought down a strike hard two handed strike that was stopped as Nightwing caught him by his wrists and headbutted him hard.

He stumbled back.

Nightwing saw his missing escrima stick jangling of his belt.

He kicked off and caught it in his hand.

He unsheathed his holstered one.

They extended and came to life with a flash of electricity, illuminating the rain around it.

Lunging forward, he creating an arc of electricity, stunning Deathstroke before he could react.

The Blue Knight proceeded to beat. Him. Down.

 _Hard._

He struck fast. He hit harder than he's ever had in recent memory.

Nightwing delivered an electricity boosted uppercut to the mercenary's jaw, knocking the sword out of his hand as well as his helmet, revealing the aging man below.

Through it all, Deathstroke was still standing, even if he was barely able to keep balance.

He groggily stumbled back until his back hit the wall of the building adjacent to the rooftop they'd been fighting on.

Nightwing was breathing hard through lungs. "It's… over Slade!" he yelled between pants.

Deathstroke the Terminator, the last commander of the Militia, stared at Nightwing with a glare that could kill. "This...wasn't meant for _you!_ " he yelled back.

Nightwing threw his escrima stick at Deathstroke.

He turned his head to see where it'd land only for it to bounce off the wall just in time to land back in it's owner's hand before it crunched his face into the wall.

And with that, the mercenary fell.

Nightwing stared at the fallen body of his opponent for a bit while breathing heavily, the only sound that could be heard was that of the rain until it stopped, the storm over. Finally tearing his eyes away, he sheathed his weapons and raised a shaky hand up to his earpiece to contact his allies.

"Bruce you there? Deathstroke's down for the count. The Militia should be toast by now."

" _Affirmative Nightwing."_ The clear voice of his mentor replied. " _I'm just finishing off the stragglers_." Then after a moment of silence, he added, " _Good work Dick_."

Nightwing nodded to himself and let out the breath he's been holding the whole night.

Gotham is safe.

He walked over to the ledge of the building and sat down, legs dangling over the side.

' _I think this is to well deserved.'_ He thought as he admired view of the eastern bay. The clouds were clearing and tendrils of light were breaking out over the water.

He was so absorbed by the view he didn't even notice Batman walking on the rooftop behind him until he took a seat next to Nightwing.

Nightwing regarded him and let out a small chuckle. "You look like shit."

Batman let out a noise that could be either a scoff or a chuckle of his own. "Gotham is safe."

The original dynamic duo simply sat there in a comfortable silence, admiring the sun's slow rise, marking the beginning of a new day for Gotham.

It was moments like these that brought him back to the days when it was just him and Bruce during his Robin days. The original Dynamic Duo, fighting for a Gotham that no child would have to watch their parents die.

Batman broke the silence. "This is the end, you know. Of Batman."

Nightwing turned his head to look at him. He was looking at the street, where the smoldering wrecks of tanks laid.

"Don't start with that. You'll beat this… You always do."

Batman gave a single shake of his head. "Not this time." He got up from his seat and walked towards the unconscious form of Deathstroke.

Now Nightwing got up from his position. "Then what are you going to do?"

Batman stopped walking and only after a beat of silence replied. "Something you won't like."

"Bruce, you don't _need_ to do me any favors. I can help you!" He was close to pleading at this point.

Bruce shook his head again and slung Slade over his shoulder. "I'm not doing this just for you, Dick." He turned to look him in the eyes. "What I'm doing is for Barbara. And for Tim. And… and for Jason." Dick's eyes widened slightly. "What I'm doing _needs_ to happen."

Nightwing clenched his fists with anger, but then he let them go and looked to the ground. "Selfish old man…" he muttered.

Bruce walked over to the ledge, but before he rappelled down, he turned his head to regard Nightwing one last time. "Dick...Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never let any one end up like me. Like us. With a case left open." When he didn't answer right away, he repeated himself. " _Promise me."_

Richard looked back up at him, straight in the eye. "Like you even need to ask."

Batman digested his answer for a moment, turned his head away from Nightwing, nodded and wordlessly jumped down towards the Batmobile below.

Nightwing walked over to the ledge he'd jumped off and watched as he saw the Batmobile speed off into the city, towards the GCPD building.

This would be the last time he'd ever see Batman.

"...I promise."

He looked towards the orange sky, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

* * *

And opened them to a rocky ceiling.

* * *

 **And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my take on what should of been the final battle with Deathstroke.**

 **Some things:**

 **Obviously this happens after the main mission is done.**

 **Don't worry, that comment from Barbara will** **be explained in a later chapter. Give it some time people.**

 **The next few chapters will be more dialogue heavy, so those of you who are hungry for character interaction will satisfied soon.**

 **Alright, that's it. Advice is nice and reviews help me remember to pour time into this.**

 **Keyrim, out.**


	5. The Caretaker

**Took my time, didn't I?**

 **Sorry about that, but due to a new term at school (new classes and all) as well as a recent promotion at work, my free time is a bit on the light side now. That means that from now one my updates are going to be a little sporadic from now on. Don't worry though; you'll still see at least** _ **1**_ **chapter a month, if not two.**

 **Be honest, that's still better than most stories. I just don't want to have to** _ **rush**_ **to get these chapters out, especially when I'm not satisfied with them.**

 **An example would have to be the last chapter.** _ **Jeez**_ **that was a mess. Yah, by the time I update the story again with the next chapter that's going to be a tad more cleaned up.**

 **Well, anyways enjoy.**

* * *

Richard, former ward of Bruce Wayne, blinked blearily at the lights above that dangled from the cave ceiling.

His senses coming back into focus, he could make out the gentle sounds of beeps to his left. Turning his head to it he saw what was an assortment of advanced medical equipment.

Ok, so he was in the medical bay of the Cave. The equipment seems pretty new. Huh.

…

Something about that thought didn't quite click the way it probably should.

Then it hit him.

He was in the _Batcave_.

Coming to that realization, he immediately shot up from bedded position…

...only to sit up for a moment before just as quickly fall back onto the (admittedly comfortable) bed with a yelp as pain shot up in his lower torso.

Richard laid there for a moment, tense as a log, as the pain slowly faded. Then slowly bringing himself up to his elbows, he looked to examine his bare torso, which was now exposed as the sheets were thrown off of him when he made the mistake of get up too fast.

He saw his usual assortment of scars (mostly faded scars he'd had since childhood. Besides bullet wounds, Lucius's armor designs do a good job of preventing identifiable marks and scars to be left on the wearer's body) as well as clean, white gazes wrapped around his waist. Tilting his head to the left a little, he could see that no, it wasn't completely clean. It was faint, but he could make out a dark red spot, darkened by dried blood that must have seeped out from his side where he got...shot?

He gently laid himself back into the bed carefully as to not aggravate the wound and began to rack his brain for answers.

It didn't make any _degree_ of logical sense. When did he get shot? _How_ did he get shot? Why was he in the _cave_ for any conceivable reason?

The Batcave was supposed to be _gone._

The Manor above was supposed to be _gone._

 _Batman_ was supposed to be _gone._

Bruce and Alfred were supposed to be _go-_

Oh.

That's right.

He remembered now.

Crackpot alternate universe. Surprisingly small alternate-self. Penguin.

So that's how he got shot.

His thoughts slowing down, Richard began to ease into the bed, glowering at the realization.

 _So that's why I'm in the cave,_ he thought sullenly to himself. _It's not 'the' cave. It's their cave._ _This world's Batman and Robin._

' _Nip this jealousy in bud before it gets to you, or have you forgotten Nightwing?'_ his inner Bruce said, interrupting his thoughts. ' _Whether or not this is the batcave is irrelevant. This is unfamiliar territory and this world's Batman is an unknown. Focus on that instead.'_

 _True enough_ , Richard agreed. Thinking back to the information he'd researched back when he first landed in this world he began to compile a list of facts and educated assumptions he could come to on this world's Gotham vigilantes.

His musings were interrupted though, when he heard an elderly British voice pip in. " _Ah_ , I see you have finally woken up."

His breathing immediately hitched when he heard that...that _voice._

It didn't matter if this was an alternate universe or not, that voice is unmistakable.

Slowly turning his head, his eyes turned to see...to see Alfred Pennyworth standing a doorway on the left side of the room. In his arms he held a tray carrying a pot of tea.

He had a small smile on his lips.

Richard immediately took in the butler's appearance, memorizing every detail about him. He was wearing a clean, black suit, coat-tails and all, complete with a white bow-tie, finishing the caretaker's image.

No matter what, that would never change.

But his _face_.

There were less wrinkles on the old man's face (a combination of stress and old age caused his own Alfred to gain a multitude of wrinkles) as well as a lack of glasses (long nights of slaving in front of that batcomputer every evening to its toll on his eyes, making glasses a necessity if he still wanted to continue helping his charges during their nightly crusades) more color in his hair as well as just more hair in general (Richard used to joke that Alfred was to tearing his hair out in frustration when he was alone in the cave whenever he and Bruce did a _Batman_ style plan, though later he would come to find he was a tad closer to the truth that Alfred was losing hair over them then he realized) and the man just seemed genuinely … _brighter_ (once when he was twelve he shadowed Alfred out of the house at night until he stopped in front of the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne… It was the first time he saw the old man cry as he asked forgiveness for failing there son...for letting him become what he was).

Even so, this was still the man that was a grandfather to him in everything but blood and name.

He continued to stare glassy-eyed at the butler openly, though the old man payed no mind as he walked over to the table by the bed and placed down the tray.

"Miss Thompkins was certain that you wouldn't be awake until later tonight," Alfred said as he set the tea down and prepared it, his eyes no longer on Richard, but focused solely on his task. "Quite honestly it was you suit that protected you from the worst of it. An _ingenious_ piece of work, it is." He chuckled softly. "Apparently your suit's weaving actually _guided_ through your side as it penetrated the material to avoid anything vital as well then tightened itself around the point of entry to cut off the blood flow. Positively spectacular."

Amid all the turmoil that was his body was he was desperately trying to suppress any tears as well as all the thoughts swirling in his head, a stray thought still came out.

 _That's Lucius for you._

Finishing putting together the tea, Alfred poured it into a small cup, placed it onto a small plate and offered it to him with a small smile.

"All in all, I suppose, I'm glad to see that you are awake...," He paused, smile faltering into a sad frown before he spoke again.

"...Master Richard."

Richard Grayson's eyes widened and his mouth open slightly opened in surprise.

They _knew?_

How? _How_? That was _impossib-..._ No. No no no it totally was possible.

This was Batman (even more so this was _Bruce_ ) he was talking about.

A glance between him and his younger-self would be all it'd take. _Hell_ , a simple blood test was even more likely.

And if he was being serious with himself, it wasn't like he had a _plan_ for what to do after he'd rescued Robin.

This might work.

But even then if there were benefits to his current situation, he wanted to meet Bruce or (at the very _least_ ) reveal himself on his _own_ terms.

He could only imagine the reaction they had when they unmasked him.

Were they confused?

Were they scared?

Were they -

"- _ter Richard?_ Master Richard can you hear me?"

He was brought out of his thoughts by Alfred's callings and realized that his heart was racing and was breathing fast.

A panic attack.

Haven't had one of those in a while.

Alfred, ever faithful, had set the tea on the bedside counter and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder to calm him down while looking at him with concerned eyes.

Calming his breathing, he looked back at the butler. "A-Alfred?"

Something changed in the old man's eyes when he called him by his name, but he only saw it for a second as Alfred broke eye-contact to nod.

Alfred sat took a breath of relief and sat back in the bedside chair that Richard could've sworn wasn't there earlier. He waited patiently with a comforting hand resting on Richard's arm while he calmed his nerves.

When the caretaker noticed that Richard had regained some composure, he spoke quietly, "So you know who I am."

It wasn't a question.

Richard had no reason to lie. He looked down at his chest and muttered loud enough for him to hear, "Yes."

"I see."

A beat of silence.

Richard broke it.

Still looking down he asked, "Do you know who _I_ am?"

"Yes."

Richard sighed, "I suppose that through you guys for a loop."

The old man chuckled as he pulled away his hand to fold them onto his lap. "Quite the understatement, but yes, it was quite startling to unmask what seemed as an injured older doppelganger of the young master."

Garnering up some courage, he back at Alfred. "What did _He_ think?" he asked, avoiding the use of names.

Alfred 'hmmed'. "Ah, yes. _He_ was _quite_ befuddled by the startling resemblance, as was the young master…"

Richard internally winced, so his younger self also knew.

"...though the young master did put his mind at ease when he recounted the events prior to your arrival. After hearing that you selflessly put yourself in harm's way to defend young Master Robin, he decided to allow you to recuperate and give you medical attention here rather than simply handing you over to a public hospital."

Richard blinked. Jeez, he was _really_ grateful that they chose option _A_ over option _B_. "Thank you. I, uh, I appreciate it," he thanked awkwardly while turning away from the butler to look back at his exposed chest. He didn't mean for it to sound like that, it was just… well, _surreal_ to be talking with Alfred again. It was even more so than with his younger-self since he had _time_ to prepare for that particular conversation.

Alfred smiled at his politeness with a hint of pride. "Well I'm glad to see that no matter how far into the future; you still retain your tact."

Please, like he'd just flippantly disrespect the gentle old man by throwing away his teach…-

Wait.

His thoughts slammed the brakes.

What?

"What?" he repeated out loud. Did he really say what he thinks he said? "'How far into the _future'_? What do you mean by that?" he asked.

It was Alfred's time to look confused as he arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that where you're from? The future I mean?"

 _That… wasn't quite was I was expecting_ , he thought as his mouth opened slightly in bewilderment. Then again, he couldn't really expect them to figure out that he was from a _legitimate alternate reality_. In all seriousness it was not the most _outlandish_ theory they could've come up with. But again, what kind of conclusion could they come to that _didn't_ sound insane?

"Wait wait wait, hold on," Richard said, waving his hands on a 'hold on' motion with his eyes closed before looking back at Alfred. "What makes you think I'm from the future?"

It was Alfred's turn to blink as a confused frown graced his face. "Are you saying that-oh dear." He raised his hand to cup his chin. "Well, shortly after Miss Tompkins finished cleaning your wound, Master Bruce took a sample of you blood from one of the bandages that were changed and had it analyzed. At first, we believe that you were an accelerated clone of Master Robin -"

"A _what?"_

"- though that theory was immediately debunked as you cells were much too varied to be artificially created, whereas in an actual clone's cells would be copied templates of a single cell. Miss Tompkins then added that your body's chemistry was a match for what normal young adults in their mid-twenties which gave way to our current theory that you were indeed from the future. It wasn't too farfetched, considering we have that ranbunchus fellow -what was his name? Oh yes, _Booster Gold_ I believe, from the future as well," Alfred continued.

This load of information was a bit to take in, to say the least. Some of it Richard couldn't even believe Alfred could say so...so casually. As this was common occurrence. And for all he knew about this universe, it might as well be.

But really, him a _clone_? Cloning isn't even possible on humans yet in 2015! And this was supposed to be 20 _10_?

And a guy from the _Future?_ Come on!

He was suddenly reminded of the information he read up on the so called _Justice League_ this world's Batman apparently had close ties with, furthering the headache that was slowly creeping up on his head.

"It was also this theory that you were from the future that compelled Master Bruce to keep your existence a secret from the League, in case any information you had to dispel was of a sensitive nature," Alfred finished.

Well that put _some_ of his mind at ease. At least his arrival was only known to the people wanted to know in the first place.

Alfred noticed that his forehead was creasing and became a little concerned. "Master Richard, are you alright? Would you still like some tea?" the butler offered.

Richard considered this. "Yeah I'll some," he sighed in agreement. "And you know what? Pour yourself some too. My explanation to who I am and how I'm here might get a, um, a little trippy."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at him but pours himself a drink nonetheless and offered one to Richard as well.

He looked down at the brown tea for a moment and drank it all in one. When he set it down he looked at Alfred. He was frozen, the cup barely touching his lips and was giving him a look.

Or rather _the_ look.

The _Alfred_.

It didn't matter what universe it was, the _Alfred_ would stop any Batman in his tracks. Let alone a former one.

Richard had the sense to look embarrassed for a moment while Alfred took a gentlemanly sip from his tea and set it on the table before he shook himself and prepared to tell the truth.

"Well to start off, your theory of me being from the future isn't… too far off. From a certain point of view anyways," He started while Alfred listened intently.

"How so?" The butler asked.

"Well for starters, where I'm from, the year was _2015_ ," he answered, dropping the first bombshell.

" _Pardon_? But if that were the case then you would be around the age of 18!"

Richard nodded, yes that would make sense for _that_ Richard Grayson, but not him. _"_ I know, but actually I just turned 27."

Alfred ran that number through his head. "That would imply that you were born in the year 1988," he concluded, his lips finishing in a thin line.

"That was the year I was born in, yes."

"... So then what are _you_ suggesting at then?"

Richard took in a breath. "What I'm suggesting at Alf, is that...well that I'm not a part of this timeline at all. I'm from a different _universe_ altogether."

"..."

There was just silence for what seems an eternity for what was actually a minute.

Richard grew tired of the silence and eventually called him out, "Alfred?"

It seemed to stir the old man as he took a breath and let out a single mirthless chuckle out as he stared at his hands folded on his lap, "You would think that after doing this for so long that I would grow to be unfazed by events such as this." He looked back up at Richard with a small smile, "Though I must say, an interdimensional traveler? That _is_ a new one. I don't think that Master Bruce had anything quite planned for that." The absurdity of the situation must have gotten to Alfred as he began to laugh softly to himself.

Richard began to chuckle right alongside him. "Yeah, this wasn't really something I expected to happen either, hehe," he laughed.

When they had calmed down from their bouts of chuckles, the two shared one of the first comfortable silences Richard has had since he'd arrived here.

And it was nice.

After a moment though, Alfred stood up from his seat. "Well, if you don't quite mind, I must make my exit. I must prepare to retrieve the young Master Richard from school." he said as he moved to collect the tray he'd walked in with.

Richard looked at him slightly perplexed. "Wait you're not going to ask me anything about how I'm from a different universe?" he asked.

"Oh you misunderstand. I am _quite_ intrigued by this, but I _am_ on a schedule and I will not allow curiosity to get the better of me." While the butler wasn't looking at him, Richard could clearly see the grandfatherly smile on his lips. "Another time though, don't you worry," he said with a nod.

Did...did he just get rained checked by Alfred?

Pushing that stray thought aside, a new point was brought up in his mind. "Hey Alfred?" he asked, stopping the butler at the door and getting his attention. "When will you tell Bruce about this?" he asked. "I just sorta want to prepare myself for him."

"Oh my boy," he answered with amusement in his eye, "why would I tell him when he's been watching this whole this conversation since I entered the room?" he finished, his eye motioning to a particular dark corner of the room.

Richard's head immediately snapped the corner, he trained eyes focusing on the mute darkness before for he saw a very, very faint purple lense of a camera in the corner of the wall.

"That cheeky…"

He looked back to find that the butler had already gone.

' _You've been played,'_ his inner Bruce deadpanned in his mind.

* * *

An hour passed since their first(?) with Alfred when he returned with a cotton white shirt folded neatly under his arm.

When he came back into the room, he saw Richard sitting on the side of the bed, arms crossed and scowling at him.

By chance, he glanced up at the particularly dark and saw that the camera was no longer even there.

He looked back at Richard with an arched eyebrow.

"I'm still mad at you," Richard said, speaking first.

Inwardly Alfred rolled his eyes. It seemed that even at supposedly 27, Master Richard can still act childishly.

"I simply wanted to inform you that Master Bruce is ready to speak to you, and requests for you to meet him by the main computer. If you're able of course," he informed, not missing the immediate change in demeanor in Richard at the mention of Master Bruce.

His shoulders slowly dropped, so his crossed arms now rested on his lap, though the scowl was still firmly in place, now glaring at the ground.

Alfred, being totally honest with himself, found that in that position, Richard took a striking resemblance to Master Bruce. Not in the sense of family, but rather in that same haunted look of loneliness that has followed him since the death of his parents.

Something that was proudly absent in the _young_ Master Richard.

Richard continued to glare at the floor for a couple more moments before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and calming his feature.

Alfred made a move to help him up though he stopped when Richard held up his hand.

"No, I'm alright. Ok, I want to talk to him," he said with a frown.

Rocking back and forth, he gave himself the momentum to stand, his joints creaking as he did so.

"Ah jeez, I needed that," he said, pleased by the sounds as he walked up to Alfred and put on the offered shirt.

Alfred didn't quite know what to make of this version of his charge's adopted son. Nevertheless, though, he was interested in seeing what kind of man he'd become.

"Right after me, sir," he said motioning him to follow him out of the infirmary and into the batcave.

* * *

Richard found that this batcave was...different than his own.

Were as his old batcave was made up of a series of platforms that spiraled deeper into the narrow cavern, this one was much, much more open, and therefore had only one level with everything spread out more evenly.

It also appeared that both batcaves have (or rather had for his own batcave) the same trophies spread around like the dinosaur (where'd we get this thing again?) and the giant penny (for the life of him, he could never figure out how they got it into the cave without anyone looking up in the sky and seeing the batwing sky-hauling a massive bronze penny).

Something very different from his own cave, though, was the inclusion of a tube like, metal arc that dug into the side of the cave wall. At first he thought it was an unfinished tunnel, but then saw that it was too narrow for a vehicle to go through. He wondered what purpose it served.

He continued to mull over the differences and similarities that both caves have until they stopped in front of what seemed to be the batcomputer. It was...bigger and was spread out in a wide "U" shape with 3 chairs on the left, right and center.

There was also someone typing away furiously at keys on, the chair facing away from them.

"Sir," Alfred called, motioning Richard to sit down on one of the chairs, which he did.

Now, unlike his first encounter with Alfred, Richard prepared himself this time, or at least not to react outwardly.

"A moment Alfred, just let me finish up," _he_ called back.

 _His_ voice was younger, definitely. Not as deep, but still it was controlled. Even. Like it should.

Then he swiveled in the chair to face them.

The first thing that got his attention of the younger version of his mentor was his eyes.

They were clearer.

Not _clear_.

But clearer.

And that made all the difference.

For a moment, they stared at each other, one with professionalism, and the other blank, but with a hidden longing.

Alfred coughed, "You two seem to have a lot to discuss. I shall make my exit."

 _He_ broke eye contact to look at Alfred and the two help a silent conversation, though Richard couldn't care less what about.

He just continued to stare.

Their silent exchange over, Alfred walked over to the elevator and wordlessly rode it back up to the manner above, leaving the two alone in the cave.

 _He_ -Bruce (this wasn't his mentor, just a version of him, remember that) looked back at him for a moment before breaking the silence.

"Hello," Bruce said calmly.

"H-hello," Richard replied, wincing internally at how it came out.

 _Suck it up; you have more control than this._

"You are Richard John Grayson, now going by _Nightwing,_ from another universe, correct?" Bruce asked. It was odd. He expecting him to have his voice dripped with an edge, yet there wasn't. He was just talking to him calmly, a person to a person.

"I am," he answered, confidence slowly finding its way back into his voice.

His face didn't change when he said it, nor did his voice, but his undertone was full of genuine gratitude.

He leaned in from his chair towards Richard and said, "Thank you for saving Robin."

* * *

 **So did you catch all the little hints and Easter eggs I hid in the chapter? Tell me what you think they were if you decide to review.**

 **Which, by the way** _ **please do**_ **.**

 **You have no idea how much it encourages me to write.**

 **Keyrim, out.**


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